CHAPTER THIRTY SIX
Reid scrambled up the chain-link fence and slung his jacket over the barbed wire at the top. Maria followed suit, tossing the jacket back down to him before dropping to her feet in the Bratislava impound lot.
There were cameras, he knew, and likely alarms. But he was far beyond worrying about his face being seen.
They sprinted across the lot, past cars and trucks and motorcycles, toward the red and white medevac chopper, the same one Reid had landed on the fairway near the District hotel.
“You can fly this, right?” he asked.
“Of course,” Maria said. She pulled open the door and climbed up into the cockpit. Reid remained on the ground, the Lorcin pistol in one hand and an Agram SMG in the other.
There was a shout from nearby and the sweep of a flashlight beam as a B
